


Ten Thousand Lighting Bugs

by ablondeweasley



Series: And That Was How it All Began [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith works too much and too hard, M/M, Wow can't believe that last one is a real tag, movie theater
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 08:16:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12428661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ablondeweasley/pseuds/ablondeweasley
Summary: ‘you’re lying on the floor of the movie theater crying and i’m the employee cleaning up after it and im soooo confused and also why has a documentary on lightbugs affected you so much’ au





	Ten Thousand Lighting Bugs

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is a reference, and yes, I hate myself and I'm very sorry.

“Keith, you burned the popcorn _again_.”

Shit. Keith’s gaze snaps up from where it’d been fixated on the elaborate scarlet and gold theater carpet (so… many… swirls…) and _fuck_ , Pidge is right. Keith hisses as he quickly turns off the machine and empties out the burned popcorn and oil from the cooking chamber. There’s unfortunately nothing he can do about the smell, though, or the people waiting in line.

“Fuck.” 

Pidge looks over the soda machine (the little gremlin’s barely tall enough), and sighs, “Rough night?”

“You could say that, yeah,” Keith starts the machine again, this time watching it closely.

“I honestly don’t know how can burn that popcorn so—Keith. Keith!” Pidge jabs their plastic straw in Keith’s direction, and a few drops of lemonade land on Keith’s cheek, effectively jolting Keith back to the present. His gaze gaze snaps back to the popcorn machine, which is shuddering, but… seems to be fine? 

“Sorry Pidge, I’ll keep a closer eye on it.”

“Fuck, Kogane, when was the last time you’ve slept? Or eaten? Or _showered_ for that matter?” 

Keith rubs a hand over his face, smearing the sticky lemonade drops. What day was it? “It’s Friday, right?”

“ _Monday_.” Pidge slams the cash register closed. 

_Fuck._

“You need a break, Kogane. In fact, why don’t you go switch with Hunk and clean-up screen four? It’s that weird-ass documentary about lightning bugs; there won’t be anyone in there. You probably don’t even need to bring the receptacles.” Pidge radios Hunk and dismisses Keith with a shooing motion. “Get some more coffee after!”

“Thanks, Pidge,” And Keith _really means it_ as he stumbles over to screen four. Shit, he thought he’d covered the whole “unwashed hair” thing with the disgustingly orange Garrison Theater and Cineplex cap, and the whole “sleep-deprived” thing with… how many cups of coffee has he had by now? God, this week, midterms, had been utter hell, especially with the two jobs Keith’s working: here at the theater and four blocks away at the Garage.

It’s weeks like these that make Keith question if this is really all worth it for a college degree. I mean, he sure as hell needs a degree if he wants to go into Astronomy, but the stars that’ve been calling his name for as long as Keith can remember have been around for 1 billion to maybe even 13.8 billion years, and they’ll be around a lot longer. They can wait. 

Keith can get his shit together, and he can wait.  
Screen four is as empty as Pidge promised, and the warm darkness settles Keith’s bones. Fuck, he could fall asleep in here so easily…

Wait, what’s that sound? 

There’s something sort of like… scratching? No, something low and soft that sounds sort of like…

Like sniffling.

The credits are still rolling behind Keith, and the music is some acoustic nature video shit, but Keith can and does follow the sound the aisle six.

What. The. _Fuck._

There’s-there’s a man lying down on the thin strip of carpet between the chairs of wise 6 and raise 5, his head under the seats in a way that the sound of his _sniffling_ is echoed.

 _What the fuck_ is this man doing here? On the floor? _Crying?_

Keith bends down hesitantly, because fuck, he hasn’t the finest fucking idea of what to do? “Umm, excuse me?”

The sniffling stops.

“…Sir?” Keith continues, and nearly falls over as he crouches, balancing his weight awkwardly on his toes and the seat next to him that rocks and reclines when he leans on it. 

The man pulls his head out from under the chair in a jerky motion, and _whoa_.

Even in the dim theater lighting, Keith can make out that the guy looks to be around his age (he definitely looks college-midterm-tired). Actually, he looks—more than tired; the guys’ eyes are bloodshot. There’s a paleness beneath his tan skin like he’s sick or something.

_Um, that’s because he’s been crying, you idiot._

“Hey,” Keith says, and his brain starts again with its mantra of _what the fuck_ ,“Are you—okay?”

“I,” The guy says, and wow, as Keith’s looks closer, he has a couple popcorn kernels stuck to his cheek and he looks like shit, but _still_. He’s very… wow. “I, um,” and then, to Keith’s horror, his face goes splotchy and he starts blinking rapidly. Like he’s about to burst into tears.

(Again.)

“Hey, hey, wait,” he croaks desperately, and the guy’s gaze focuses again. “Here, how about you… sit up?”

The guy’s eyes widen, (they’re so-so blue, even in this lighting), and “-orry,” he’s saying, wiping his eyes, “sorry, yeah, I don’t even—yeah,” and both him and Keith get up slowly.

He’s tall, Keith can’t help but register, and wow, they’re very… close.

“So, um,” Keith begins, but the guy looks down, and something inside Keith shifts.

“I was going to go get some coffee across the street,” He finds himself saying, “Do you want to come?”

The guy’s gaze snaps up again, his eyes widening even more, and _shit_ — but to Keith’s surprised he nods and sniffles again.  
“A-Actually, that sounds good, thanks. Sorry about… all this.”

“No, it’s… fine?” Keith’s mouth is moving again, what the fuck? “We could maybe talk about it… over coffee?”

Suddenly, the credits are over and the lights come on, and the guy gives him a watery smile.

Jesus Christ, Keith thinks, because _wow_.

“Okay,” Keith nods, and turns to leave before he does something even more stupid. The guy follows him silently out of the theater, and by this point Keith doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. 

When they pass the counter, Pidge raises their eyebrows at them.

“Don’t ask,” says Keith, because he doesn’t even know what he’d say, and the guy follows him out the door.


End file.
